Frisky
by Hiei's Cute Girl
Summary: They all thought he had no hormones. They could have testified against their existence in the presence of the Holy Courts. Until she helped prove them wrong. Ryoma and Sakuno.
1. Apocalyptic Response

**Frisky**

**Summary: They all thought he had no hormones. They could have testified against their existence in the presence of the Holy Courts. Until she helped prove them wrong. Ryoma and Sakuno.**

**Two-shot**

**Apocalyptic Response.**

Everyone knew that Echizen Ryoma was the resident teen heartthrob. With his dashing good looks, super tennis skills, mighty intellect, chocolaty voice, undeniable charisma, and beautiful eyes he could have passed as a super model since birth. He was chased by girls everywhere he went, whether they knew anything about tennis or not. In fact, he was one of the main reasons tennis was so popular among the masses of Tokyo, and soon, the world.

Everyone also knew that Echizen Ryoma was the very textbook definition of asexual.

_Asexual- having no sex or sexual organs; free from or unaffected by sexuality; lacking in interest or desire for sex._ If looked up in a dictionary, Momo was sure that it almost said, in synonyms, SEE RYOMA.

He had absolutely no interest in women. Zero, zilch, none, nil, NADA! Both girls and women alike threw themselves at him constantly, and _he did not react_. At all. It was both shocking and heartbreaking to the people around him. Most of his teammates, especially those his age, were jealous. Some, mostly the older ones, worried about his health and mental state. Others, mostly those who were also plagued by women or thoroughly ignored, couldn't have cared less.

Matter of fact was, Ryoma's attention span could never fit women into the equation. After so many years, everyone had accepted that. It was obvious, it was crystal clear, and it was frustrating to the female population who could do nothing but mourn the fact that all of the good ones were either taken, gay, or just not human.

Already, in so little time, it was taken for granted that no matter how many women paraded themselves around Ryoma in varying states of undress, the only thing he would do was raise a single perfect eyebrow and say: "Aren't you cold?"

Oishi, the timeless mother of all Seigaku players, Eiji, the acrobat/team mascot, and Takeshi, the one who believed in the God of Dates, had all given up on proving the masses wrong and showing the world that, indeed, Ryoma's hormones were not sealed somewhere deep in his body.

After many failed attempts, including a knife, a gun, a stripper, a M16, and a little box of Nerds, they had called it quits and declared that Ryoma's romance status was PERMANENTLY UNATTAINABLE.

Ryoma huffed in relief once Momo-sempai, and his band of cohorts, stopped pestering him on getting a girlfriend for once and let him concentrate on what truly mattered: Tennis.

It wasn't that he had anything against women, he did, after all, love his mother and cousin. Though other females usually scared him, like a starving dog would scare a small rabbit, he truly didn't hate women or anything dumb like that. They were useful creatures, women. They could cook, clean, care for you when you were sick, love like none other, and usually sang really well (with the exception of that loud girl… what was her name again? Ah, Tomoka… right). He just didn't see the benefit in keeping some useless, long lasting relationship with some girl he hardly knew. Sure, he could try to get to know one, but it was the same basic principle.

To him, a relationship held no positive points or feedback. There was no need to maintain some semblance of normalcy or love between two people when one simply couldn't, wouldn't, care. He had no time to learn how to be human. He had no time to learn the how to's and the don't do's of the simplest structure in society. He simply didn't have the focus or the goal to strive for something he considered petty and a waste of his time.

And so, he didn't even make some attempt to redeem his name, his father was rolling in tears of agony for this, because to him it was all meaningless. Normally, his pride would have interfered and demanded the taking-back of the crude assumption of his missing sexuality. However, it had nothing to do with tennis and it helped him with his issue when it came to girls when the rumor spread.

To him, it was the most ideal statement anyone could have ever made.

Some ignorant girls still tried to coax him to the 'dark side', but most of the female population had given up to simply worshipping from a distance. Watching with teary eyes as the Prince of Tennis, of Their Hearts, of Thieves (of hearts, of souls, and of everything in between), and of the School molded and transformed into a soon-to-be most eligible bachelor.

An eligible bachelor who didn't want to change his status because he lacked the interest, the discipline, and most of all the** sex drive**. He had no hormones, and therefore, he was asexual.

Clean and simple.

Again, Ryoma didn't mind being thought of on par with an amoeba. He actually liked amoebas, because they lead a one-track lifestyle with no changes, no curves, no pervy fathers, and no shit headed for the fan. He envied them, as a matter of fact, and wouldn't have minded dying and being reborn as one later on in life when he beat his father once and for all in tennis.

He would have been happy to remain an amoeba for the rest of his life. Until **that day**. (In bold letters because it was shocking, it was apocalyptic, it was KODAK.)

**'.'**

It had been three months, four weeks, and two days since Momoshiro, Eiji, and Oishi (and occasionally the ever elusive Inui) had declared the failure in their mission to find Ryoma's nonexistent sexuality, but who was counting?

None the less, Ryoma was glad, for now he didn't have one, two, three, sometimes four, sempaitachi on his case anymore during practice or any other time under the sun. As he continuously hit the ball against the same spot on the wall, increasing in speed and precision with every hit, he thanks the Gods above that now he could actually think in peace.

The rest of the regulars were also rallying their balls against the wall around him, setting the pace of a thousand balls per forty five minutes, all hit toward the same spot, and whoever was unable to complete four full hours of this torture was under the threat of the dangerous new Penalty Juice Inui had concocted only some days ago. Ryoma had already achieved the goal eight hundred twenty five times in under less than half an hour along with the rest of the regulars, all working extra hard once shown the power of the Penalty when Fuji himself succumbed to its destructive capabilities on the human being.

It had been a horrifying sight to see.

Now with Fuji down and out of the ball game (pardon the pun), everyone else more of less devoted themselves to completing the task as quickly as possible as if their lives depended on it. Which, oddly enough, kind of did. Fuji looked pretty lifeless…

_Pok…_

Eight hundred twenty six…

_Pok…_

Eight hundred twenty seven…

_Pok, pok, pok…_

Eight hundred twenty eight, eight hundred twenty nine, eight hundred thirty…

Ryoma kept counting meticulously, hitting the ball harder, faster, more precisely with each elegant swing of his racket. His concentration never strayed, not once, from the task he had been given, one he would usually have considered menial had the Inui Juice not been added as an afterthought when Eiji rebelled against such a childish exercise.

He would normally be cursing his sempai, this was an activity he could achieve without a second thought, kind of like breathing, but he focused completely on it instead. He was throwing himself into tennis; fifteen and he had yet to defeat his father so he was getting frustrated. He would not waver, he could not afford the slightest miscalculation.

Not even once.

Not even when whispering began just outside the courts, getting louder and louder by the minute.

Not even when the annoying whistling and cat calls began, along with the crude comments, disgusting suggestions, and perverted delight that started festering around the courts.

Not even when his sempaitachi began to grow curious themselves and turned to look at what was going on, to look at what the hell the male population of their school gathered around the courts were going to insane over.

Not even when Tezuka himself, the man of the hour, turned and paused to stare at what was causing the commotion, the ball he'd been rallying bouncing off the wall and away from him as he ignored it in favor of staring at the cause of it all.

He was curious, though. Who wouldn't be? I mean, the head honcho himself had turned, not only to look, but had also ended up staring. Any sane man, or amoeba if you include the nickname for the 'asexual' Ryoma, would wonder what, exactly, in the name of all seven hells had captured the big cheese's attention so abruptly.

Other than a tennis match, of course.

_Pok, pok, pok, pok…_

Nine hundred seventy eight, nine hundred seventy nine, nine hundred eighty, nine hundred eighty one…

He kept going until he could go no more, completing the exercise quickly. Partly from curiosity (Tezuka and the rest of the team where **still** staring), partly from the fact that Inui stood off some paces away, looking eerily delighted as the forty five minute limit was hastily approaching and no one seemed to be doing anything to finish up in order to stay as far as possible from his infamous Juice.

Once done, Ryoma finally turned to look at what in the Name of all that was Tennis every seemed to be staring at like it was some form of pot full to the brim with gold.

It might as well have been.

There stood fifteen year old Sakuno, dressed in a beautiful red sundress that complimented her peach skin and full lips to an extent that was almost unbelievable. It wasn't the color that amazed, though, it was the length.

In the last three years Ryoma had known her, Sakuno had developed from a frail little girl to a young woman with assets she had inherited from her grandmother and legs that could kill. Her old shyness was gone from Ryoma's constant attempts at changing her behavior (read: teasing) that she ended up growing a backbone if only to tell him to fuck off (he had been both proud and shocked the first time she'd suggested he go and pleasure himself with a tone that would have made a towering bear cower in fear), and she stood with radiant confidence behind the fence that surrounded the courts.

In that tiny, fluttery dress that ended just above mid-thigh and dipped too deeply into her breasts to be thought of as modest... with the spiked red heels she wore, the red lip gloss, and the prettypretty necklace around her neck, she looked like a million bucks tucked and rolled into a single person.

The entire team, the cat-callers, the wolf-whistlers, and the girls around the court watched Ryoma turn away with sinking, some rising because Ryuuzaki looked almost edible in that dress, hopes. It was a well known fact that, aside from his mother, cousin, and the coach, the only other female Ryoma spoke to more than once was Sakuno. If there was anyone that could make Ryoma's latent hormones spontaneously awaken from their slumber like a new-born Dracula, it would have been her.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be…

Jaws dropped, tennis rackets bounced, eyes popped out, and surprise hit new heights when Ryoma turned back for a double take and **stared**.

Someone make an emergency call to Zordon. THE APOCALYPSE IS COMING!

**To be continued…**

**Please ignore the Power Rangers reference. It was impulsive of me to add it, but the damage was done, and it stuck. I… couldn't help it?**

**I hope you noticed that the use of Capitalized words was all for a reason. I love being sneaky. Three cheers and maybe a free cookie to whoever guesses why correctly.**

**Please enjoy, review, and wait for the next chapter! I was going to make this only a one-shot, but I decided: what the hell? It's called ****Frisky**** for a reason and it would be a shame to waste the title when I thought this out SO WELL.**

**It came to me when I was reading something, God knows what, and I wrote it down in under five minutes. Be proud of me.**


	2. Apocalyptic Actions

**Frisky**

**Summary: They all thought he had no hormones. They could have testified against their existence in the presence of the Holy Courts. Until she helped prove them wrong. Ryoma and Sakuno.**

**Two-shot**

**Apocalyptic Actions.**

After the dress incident, this began to spin out of control for Prince Amoeba, err- Ryoma.

The resident teen heartthrob had been discovered to be as hormonally driven as the rest of them, with the way he had reacted to the sight of Sakuno, who had been forced into the dress by the well-meaning Tomoka, in a scanty red sundress that was small enough to leave almost nothing to the imagination.

Though his first reaction, or second if you count the double take, was to stare, he had instantly grown angry at every other man who dared to stare at the innocent Ryuuzaki, who was still unaware of the effect her body would have on any man dumb enough to even so much as glance (the coach's daring stare made up for a whole army of bodyguards Sakuno needed to keep the hoards of sex crazy men off of her).

With a dash that would have put a racing cheetah to shame, he was at her side in the blink of an eye and covering her in his large high school team jersey. Which, sad to say, was longer than that damn dress Sakuno was wearing at that time.

He had then dragged her to the locker rooms, determined to make her see that there was absolutely no rhyme and no reason to what she was doing until she promptly told him that her uniform was soaked, her gym clothes were missing, and that what she was wearing was all Tomoka had to let her borrow that day. After her friend hand seen her in it, she'd gone a little stir crazy until poor Sakuno had ended up looking like she was and because she had promised him a bento, she had headed for the tennis courts, then she'd gotten lost, and had ended up with a crowd of drooling students on her heels as she looked fruitlessly for the tennis courts and finally found them. Which explained the large crowd and the noise around the courts.

With a sigh, Ryoma had shoved his Seigaku pants (it was kind of cold, he justified), the extra white Seigaku polo he kept in his locker for emergencies, a pair of old tennis shoes he dug out of his bag he'd forgotten to ever remove two years ago, and pushed her into the locker room while he stood guard at the door. When she only squeaked, some habits were hard to break, he ordered her to change and to be quick about it because he was quite hungry.

That tale had instantly become an urban legend among the population in the campus and had exploded into an all new argument on Ryoma's sexuality. Had he just covered her and dragged her away angrily, no rumors would have been spread. After all, they were friends and Ryoma was known to be quite protective of Sakuno. (Sumire was the SP that safeguarded the sexy Sakuno while Ryoma was the big, black and tan mongrel of a dog that stood between anyone and his mistress. It was rumored that this was because Sakuno was just too cute and also because she cooked very, **very** well.)

However, before he did any of that, not only had he done a double take, he had **stared**. Of all things he could have done, he STARED at Sakuno like she had just grown a second head, wore a funny hat with matching clothes, and was dancing around with a large pink bear.

Stared at her like this was the first time he'd ever seen her and was thinking of something other than tennis or sleep or Karupin for once in his life.

The fan girls were just so proud.

For weeks Poor Prince Ryoma lived in constant fear that he would be jumped on and suffocated by another one of these rabid girls who would stop at nothing to try to seduce him and make the once-amoeba hers. Of course, after some near-death encounters, Ryoma had ended up arming himself up with his racket, some pepper spray, and salt to keep them away. And because they tended to pop up randomly, with no trace of a pattern or processed thought or anything in between, he was forced to carry them around at all times.

Tezuka had noticed a decrease in the Prince's reaction time during practice, especially when it came to a surprise attack, but decided to mention it since Ryoma looked as frazzled as a single mother of ten at the end of her rope.

The only other female apart from the adults in his life and his cousin Ryoma seemed to ever relax around was the source of the problem herself: Sakuno.

Many girls envied her and tried desperately to hurt her because of her relationship with the Prince of Tennis. However, thanks to her background and her large family, Sakuno was well versed in the art of pranks and could normally smell one from a mile away… normally.

This wasn't the case, however, when she and Ryoma were tricked into being in a room with a dysfunctional lock, and of all the things under the sun that could have happened… the worst did.

The door closed, and they were stuck, alone and uncomfortably hot in a tiny little room with no air conditioning and useless windows that were only there for show. Three stories up and with no way out, Sakuno and Ryoma had no hope of even asking the snickering duo (Ryoma guessed, correctly, that it was Momoshiro and Eiji) for help. And knowing how the howling hyenas reasoned, they wouldn't be getting help any time soon.

While Sakuno panicked on what to do, how to get out, and God oh God don't let the oxygen deplete, Ryoma wondered vaguely if Tezuka would force him to run laps. Knowing his stony captain, the possibility was more than just plausible. Even if he told him why he was late, the man of all hours would probably look like it was all beneath him and simply order the evil kadevil perpetrators to run with him.

And then, he would be royally screwed. He normally wouldn't fear Takeshi or Eiji, even when put together. However, there were many blind spots between their usual lap route and the courts, and two against one when both opponents were bigger (one stronger the other faster) than you were never good odds. He was vengeful, but not suicidal. His revenge could be taken in a different way shape and form, and he was willing to put his skills in tennis on the line in a bet that he **would** get his revenge against the in a very, VERY painful manner.

He had, after all, the whole afternoon to think vile thoughts.

"Hey, Ryoma," Sakuno interrupted his Machiavellianism-like plotting with her sweet voice. They were both far past the point of using suffixes or surnames for one another. In public, she still often called him Ryoma-kun because she deemed it inappropriate to call him so intimately in front of so many people. However, in private, she called him as she pleased.

He looked up, putting up an annoyed front when he was anything but. He could never be annoyed at her, no matter how much he tried. Not the first time he met her, and especially not now. But he didn't like the thought of breaking up their friendship if she went head-over-heels for him and started to act like the rabid mass of… things, not even girls anymore, that seemed to love following him everywhere.

Humming in response when she didn't reply with just his eyes on her like she normally would, she knew his every gesture by memory but was hesitant to speak, Ryoma watched her fidget as she sat down opposite of him against the wall.

"How… how have you been these past few weeks? Y-you don't look too good, Ryoma," she usually didn't stutter when she spoke to him anymore, unless she was saying something she thought embarrassing or he was watching her too intensely.

Ryoma smirked, she sounded as nervous as she looked, and plopped down, placing his feet against hers gamely. She smiled at the move, and pushed her legs toward him while he pushed back. "It's been annoying having all of those girls throw themselves at me and ask for the most outrageous things," he sighed as Sakuno giggled in his expense, "you wouldn't believe what some of them have been saying recently."

"Try me," Sakuno dared, buckling one of her legs and playing bicycle despite the fact that she was wearing a skirt. Ryoma's eyes stayed diligently on her face, ignoring the occasional flash of a pink panty at the corner of his eyes.

With his best female squeaky voice, he began. "Ryoma-sama, let's go on a date! Ryoma-sama, marry me! Ryoma-sama, sign my boobs! Ryoma-sama, let's make love! Ryoma-sama, I want to have your children! Ryoma-sama! Ryoma-sama!" By the time he finished, Sakuno was laughing so hard she'd fallen over.

He smirked, delighting in the fact that he was one of the few people that could make her laugh like this so openly. In the past, Sakuno would only giggle discreetly, but as their friendship grew, he realized that, like all other girls, Sakuno could fall into a hysterical fit of laughter just like everyone else, you just had to know which buttons to push.

"Ryoma, you imitate them so poorly!" she protested, speaking up for the Desperate Dogs who hunted her best friend with the determination of a blood hound while he avoided them like a plague in the Old Ages.

"No, no, I think I got them just about right," he refuted, looking quite thoughtful when in fact he was doing everything in his power not to smile as Sakuno fell into a giggling fit all over again.

She continued to laugh, while Ryoma egged her chuckles on with inappropriate comments and more pathetic imitations of the girls who wouldn't leave him alone and demanded such insane things from a fifteen year old boy who was soon to be sixteen.

Then he said it, what had been on his mind the first time he'd ever seen her laugh. He said it quietly, softly, but his mistake was that he said it in a small room where even the smallest of sounds could be heard by all. "God, you're beautiful when you laugh."

She instantly stopped laughing, and it was her turn to stare. She stared at him, of all of the things she could have done, and said absolutely nothing. She STARED at him like he'd shaved his head, was streaking, wore a sign that said 'FREE KISSES', and had a pet Iguana with Magical Powers.

Hm, he wondered, where DO you find Iguana's with Magical Powers, anyway? If he ever found one, he was totally naming it Ignacio.

Back to the future! Err- present, Ryoma only stared back at Sakuno who was busy wondering if she heard right, wondering what in the Name of all that was Tennis he meant by it if she had, wondering why her dumb old heart wouldn't stop beating so loudly when she had sworn she'd given up on her love for Ryoma long ago… when he said "we're just friends"…

Wondering why she had the mysterious urge to cry.

Deciding what would be the best course of action, as a friend, Sakuno merely smiled with enough cheek to fill up a blimp and bowed comically in her seated position. "Thank you!"

Ryoma wondered vaguely why he felt so desperately disappointed in her reaction. He also wondered what on Earth had possessed her to wear pink underwear that day. With the minimal light and the dark color of her uniform, with the way she was seated, it was all he could see even when trying to stare at her face.

Now that she was bowing, it took every ounce of willpower to force his eyes to stay where he knew her face would be once she got up.

"Sit up straight before you make a fool out of yourself, stupid," he told her pseudo coldness, and because he kept his eyes off of her, he failed to see her flinch.

She sat up and they stayed in a comfortable silence for a while, Ryoma staring at the ceiling while Sakuno stared at her hands. After a couple of minutes, Sakuno got bored of fiddling with her hands. "Ryoma, I know you're not asexual, as they say, but why don't you ever go out on dates?"

Ryoma instantly lost count of the cracks in the ceiling he'd been enumerating, and his amber eyes slid down to gaze at the only girl not in his family or an adult that he found slightly less annoying than the rest. Sure, she had some habits he found extremely exasperating at first, but after such a long time with her at his side, such habits had become endearing to him in ways he had never imagined they could ever be.

One of the habits he still found slightly frustrating, though, was her need to always be doing something… just like his mother. (She was like a shark, constantly on the move. Sometimes he wondered if she came from a fish-background, but she'd only growled at him when he had asked.) If Sakuno found nothing to do, she turned to the one thing most women found to be like their seconds nature: TALK.

He shrugged, knowing that if he didn't answer, she would either stare at him until he did or keep pestering him about the subject, even actually teasing him. Sometimes he regretted having given her a backbone in order to defend herself, it gave her the freedom of cutting him up with her tongue if she pleased.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully, gazing at his hands. "I mean, it's not like I hate girls or something, it's just that I don't see the point, the need, to be in a relationship."

"Don't you want to be loved?" she asked him, putting her feet against his again, but no pressure behind them.

"Not really," he said, shrugging yet again. "I mean, I have enough with my mother and cousin around, and they're rather tiresome. Plus, I have you, so what am I missing out?"

The dark light prevented him from seeing the slight blush on Sakuno's face, but not the slight downward twist of her pretty lips.

"Seriously, you're not ever curious?" Ryoma made a face as she repeated herself. Usually she wasn't this determined to see a subject through.

"Look," he sighed, staring straight into her eyes. "If I haven't experienced it, I won't miss it. If I don't miss it, I don't need it. What's so fun about kissing and hugging anyway?"

Sakuno snorted at his immature statement, thoroughly disagreeing for reasons she had thought she'd left behind. "It's actually very, very nice," she informed him with a matter of fact tone, and because she turned away, she missed the jealous twitch of his hands and the angry furrowing of his brow.

"How do you know?" he hissed in a low voice, annoyed with both himself and the bastard who dared to kiss her. With himself because he was getting jealous over something as trivial as a kiss… no, he was angry because he was actually jealous when he shouldn't be. And with the moron who kissed her because he touched what belonged to him and him alone.

"Hm?" Sakuno asked, turning back to face him when she didn't hear his question. She was biting her bottom lip, and for a moment Ryoma forgot what he was going to say.

_Why do you do this to me..?_

"How do you know?" he repeated, this time louder and gritting his teeth so he wouldn't do anything stupid that would give his feelings away, like start screaming or something equally idiotic. Or kiss her, because she looked too damn good bathed in shadows and biting her own lip saucily.

Sakuno rolled her eyes, "because I've kissed guys before, stupid." She made that one single statement both belittle him and piss him off because, first, how dare she, and two, HOW DARE SHE?

"Oh?" Sakuno was good at reading Ryoma, and she knew that cowering before him then would have been a dumb thing to do. That would have been like turning your back on and screaming as you run away from a bear. Dumb and just DUMB. She might be dense and often clueless, but she wasn't as dim as a bucket of rocks. On the contrary, most teachers would argue that Sakuno was borderline brilliant. However, at that very moment, she chose the wrong thing to do.

She nodded nonchalantly and ignored the survival instincts that told her to laugh and say "just kidding!" She might as well have bathed herself in blood and have Julius Cesar throw her into a Pit of Lions with what she had just done.

Ryoma's eyes were screaming for blood. And though it wasn't for her own, she was the only one in the room and a kiss usually takes two.

"So that means you've gotten down and dirty before, hm?" Sakuno stared at him like he'd just asked her if he could wear her bra on his head. Her eyes clearly said '_are you insane?_' but Ryoma ignored it in favor for looking quite pleased with the turn of events as he got on his knees and loomed over her like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. "So that means you've got more experience than I do."

It came as more of a shock that Sakuno thought it did. Sure, Ryoma was known for his asexual behavior, but this was ridiculous! He had just said, in a roundabout way, that he'd never even had his first kiss while she, on the other hand, had been kissed thrice. Suddenly, though, as he closed the distance between them with the slowness of a tiger on his prey, he seemed much more intimidating and a hundred times sexier than normal.

"Teach me, O so Experienced One." He said harshly, preparing himself for the lunge as he caged her head with both arms.

And he descended upon her like an eagle on its afternoon meal: quick, determined, undeterred.

Hard.

Sakuno could hardly breathe as he showed her just how versatile he was with every single extension on his body, including that able tongue he usually used to cut down his opponents. She could do nothing more than just melt under his assault and let the feelings she had for him overwhelm her as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to seat him between her parted legs, molding her body against his deliciously.

Ryoma groaned into her mouth. She was just so inviting, so soft, so **hot**, that he couldn't help himself and he kissed her with every ounce of fierceness he had, and if you include his tennis prowess, he had a lot of fierceness to give.

As their kiss deepened, becoming more like a lovers tangle than a childish French Kiss most girls couldn't even dream about when it came to Ryoma, the door suddenly opened and light poured into the room, along with two distinct cackles and a cold voice Ryoma could recognize anywhere.

"Feeling frisky, are we, Ryoma?" Tezuka asked, glaring down at the prodigy through his glasses. "Why not, then, put that energy to use and run one hundred laps?"

Ryoma groaned as if the Apocalypse had just arrived, gave Sakuno a look that showed a promise for lessons later on (and made her hot all over again), and set off to run his laps as instructed.

Tezuka turned to Eiji and Momoshiro, who had yet to stop laughing at Sakuno's dazed expression, "You too, Momoshiro, Eiji. Run one hundred laps."

They moaned in disdain and set out, complaining all the while: THE APOCALYPSE IS COMING!

**The End.**

**Ehe… I love you?**

**Also done in less than five minutes. Don't you just love rushed crap?**


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